We're going to the chapel....soon!

Here we are, just 65 days until the wedding!  After having to get on Xanax and find my "zen" place, I finally got our wedding invitations done.  Sure, some looked ghetto, some don't have the "M" on Michael or the "N" on Evanchan, and some say we're getting married in "Jackso" in instead of "Jackson."  But here's the thing, when you're making your own inviations and you get to 100+, you no longer care.  Some brides insist their invitations have deeply embossed roses on them, but me?  I just hope people are smart enough to read the invitations with several missing letters.  It's like a secret code!

The funny thing is, I actually wanted a small wedding, in fact, I even suggested we elope (yikes!)  My midwestern future mother-in-law looked at me like I had a third eyeball.  Mike also insisted we have a big wedding, and yet the other day, he casually said he now wishes we had decided to go smaller.

So here's the thing brides: You need to make the wedding exactly how you want, because your future hubby with have no role in the preparations.  Men really don't care if you berry colored tablecloths, square vase centerpieces, or a signature Huckleberry Margarita.  You will have to drag him to Men's Wearhouse on a Saturday with him complaining the whole way.  You'll have to politely remind him he needs to buy you a wedding band. 

But in the end, it will be so worth it when I'm enjoying our open bar and getting my groove on to some Miley Cyrus.  It will be a Party in the U.S.A.!

Is the customer always right?

Whoever said the customer is always right has clearly never worked in a 1) restaurant, 2) clothing store or a 3) TV station.  I've worked in all three, and let me tell you, people are a-holes.  (Sorry Mama Mays!)  People take out all their problems on you, apparently because it makes them feel better. 

Here's my opinion: it's the not the medium rare steak you're unhappy with, it's your 401k.  It's not the news anchor you don't like, it's your cheating husband.  And really, is the fact that the shirt is no longer on sale today, but it was yesterday going to make you that mad?  I prefer saving my anger for cabbies who nearly run me over, or my dog who poops on the floor.

As I mentioned in a previous blog, I've taken a part-time job at a clothing store.  There is a woman who comes into our store about every week, and she'll ask you to figure out the final price of every sale item that's 40% off.  We could honestly spend all day telling her something is $12.99.  Her response, "Well, isn't it another 40% off?!?!"  We kindly explain each time, $12.99 is with the 40% off.
She'll even interpret your conversations with other customers just to find out how much something is, and if you tell her you'll be right with her, she yells in her thick accent, "Just Shut Up!"

Sheesh.

My bosses solution?  Kill the woman with kindness to land the $13.00 sale.  My solution?  Hide in a dressing room until she leaves.

Do dogs forget potty training?

You know it's going to be a bad day when you immediately step in poop.

Enough said, right? (I bet you're thinking, "Thank God she didn't post a picture of it!)  As soon as I got up this morning, I stepped in the brown stuff...and to make it more annoying, my phone started ringing at the same time.  Who's calling me at 8 a.m.?

The weird thing is that our dog Buckeye, has always been VERY potty trained, and this just started a couple of weeks ago.  How can a dog be potty trained for 5 years, and then revert back to being a puppy?  Oddly enough, he just turned 5 yesterday.  You probably celebrated your 5 year old's birthday with a party.  I celebrated ours by spanking him and rubbing his nose in poo.  Maybe real kids are better?

The funny thing is, he poops in the bathroom.  Perhaps because daddy misses and hits the floor, Buckeye thinks it's okay too!

If anyone has any suggestions, I'm all ears.  Hopefully it's not my stepfather's advice, who always laughingly says, "Maybe you should just put him down."

Is it stressful planning a wedding? Yep

Mike's cousin got married this weekend in Pennsylvania, but we couldn't go because he already had his Bachelor party planned, and let's face it, we need to spend more money traveling like we need more crap in our tiny apartment.  Mike's mother says the wedding was beautiful, but the bride had a few stressful moments such as her favorite flowers not arriving because of the Iceland volcano.  Huh? Who knew that event affected so much.

People keep asking me if I've had a panic moment yet, and fortunately I haven't.  The wedding invitation debacle was stressful and annoying, but I never panicked.

That is, until last night.

My girlfriends and I decided to have my Bachelorette party the first weekend in June.  I started calling hotels and looking on-line, and?  There is not a room to be found in the greater Chicago area.  What's going on?  Apparently, the world's largest oncology conference is that weekend, and therefore, it's the busiest weekend in the Windy City.  Ever.

The good news?  My single girlfriends might land a rich doctor.  The bad news?  There will be at least 10 of us crammed into my 660-square foot apartment.  (Drink!)

High rise living=scary

Last night I thought I was going to die.  Sure, I've had this feeling before like the time photographer Shawn Pierce and I were covering a story in Podunk Indiana.  A father had killed one son, and tried to kill the other, and when Shawn and I were trying to get video, a woman pulled a shot gun on us.  Yep, she even cocked it, ensuring I was going to die in an Indiana corn field.  Another time when I was covering the arrest of an attempted murder suspect hiding in his baby mama's house, the baby mama came over and told me if her child was in any of the video, she'd personally find me and kill me slowly. 

Do you see why so many TV people are on Xanax?

Back to last night--most of the Midwest had really crappy weather, including tornadoes touching down in some areas.  As I was sitting in our high-rise (31 floors up), the building and our windows were swaying and shaking, the walls were creaking, even the pictures on our walls were moving.  Then the wind picked up our glass-top table on the balcony, lifted it up, and it came crashing back down.  Scary!

I suddenly wracked my brain, trying to remember if I'd ever covered a tornado hitting a city's downtown. Check!  Straight-line winds severely damaged the Regions Bank Building in Indianapolis a few years ago.

I kept asking myself, "What do I do?"  Stay inside the building and hope our glass wall doesn't shatter or go outside and risk being hit and killed by someone's breakfast table flying over their balcony.  I stayed inside.

Facebook Groups= Weird

If you're on Facebook, there's a good chance you've joined some "groups." They are a way for you to join with other people who share common interests or ideas, or perhaps you want to get something changed and show your support.

I'm in a few including "The Angela Buchman Fan Club" (She's the really hot meteorologist I worked with in Indy...I became a fan because she's as sweet as she is pretty, and that doesn't often happen in TV news.)  I'm also in, "I shook hands with a President of the United States"  (Bill Clinton-1993, and he totally winked at me too.)  And "Miss Wyoming Titleholders" (Yes, I'm totally living in the past with that one because those are my "glory days", a.k.a. the days without crow's feet or cellulite.)

This is what makes me laugh--there is now a group for every situation you can think of, and they are really detailed too.  Who needs to join these groups? 
* "I only check my voicemail to get rid of the little icon on the screen." (That's one reason...seeing if you missed an important phone call may be important too.)
* "If I could punch you without getting into trouble, believe me, I would."  (Ouch!)
Here's the strangest one... 
*  Dear Lord, this year you took my favorite actor, Patrick Swayze. You took my favorite actress, Farrah Fawcett.  You took my favorite singer, Michael Jackson.  I just wanted you let you know my favorite President is Barack Obama. AMEN. (I don't even know what to say to that.)

Here's the group I'm starting...please join!
* I lost a job during the recession so I moved to Chicago to be with my fiance.  I took a job in retail, I get 50% off, and now I have really darling clothes.  I need to dust and vacumn today...maybe I'll clean the bathroom too.  How am I already out of coffee creamer?  Ugh, I guess a grocery store errand is also in the works.  I hope my downstairs neighbor turns down his really loud Spanish music.  AMEN.

I'm working again! (But I'm still broke)

I have a confession to make.  About a month ago, I took a part-time retail job.  I was nervous about saying anything, because do you remember the January debacle?  I practically shouted from every roof top and sky skraper that I'd gotten a corporate job, and then?  I lasted 9 days.  I quickly realized sitting at a desk all day long, trying to sell something people don't need or want is a slow.....way.....to.....die.

So here's what I've discovered.  A job you didn't plan on taking, or a career that isn't what you studied for in college, can sometimes bring you way more happiness than a job you think will.

Here's what I've also discovered-- I get 50% off and that's a problem. Yes it's a problem, because I'm spending all my money.  As you can see from my closets (plural), I need more clothes like I need another Chihuahua.  At first I told people, "It would be fiscally irresponsible for me not to buy clothes a half price."  Now, I realize I'm spending about 5 times more than I'm making.

Oops.

Can I register Mike and me for Ann Taylor Loft gift cards?

Kate Gosselin is a star? Really?

Are you a Dancing with the Stars fan?  The answer is probably yes, considering week after week, it's the most watched show.  Millions of us breathed a sigh of relief this week when mom of 8, Kate Gosselin, got kicked off.

Here's the main problem: Kate clearly can't dance, and she's not a star, so why the heck was she on Dancing with the Stars?  She's apparently famous because she has really active ovaries.  Can you believe the paparazzi follows her everywhere? Weird.

Here's what I don't get...why was her leaving the show so emotional?  She bawled her eyes out and got a standing ovation.  Everyone in the audience acted like she just found a cure for cancer, when in reality TV, she had zero coordination and told her super-nice dance partner, Tony Dovolani, that she wasn't learning the steps because "he wasn't teaching her correctly."  He retorted that he's taught world-class dancers, so he must be doing something right.

I say thank goodness we no longer have to hear her whine about how hard it is because she's dealing with "personal issues," and we no longer have to see her giving a death glare to the judges.

To you Kate: I know you're worried about the custody issue with your ex-husband, Jon.  I think I've found the perfect solution--you take 4 kids, and he'll take 4 kids.  That way it's even, and everyone wins!

Midwest versus The West

As the wedding invitations go out, we're slowly getting RSVP's and figuring out who is or is not coming.  When I was talking to my future mother-in-law this weekend, I exclaimed, "We have 23 no's so far!"  To me that means a savings of approximately $2,300, yeah!  She said, "I hope you're just as excited by the people saying yes."  Oops.

Here's what I realized...people in the Midwest (i.e. Mike's family), versus people in other parts of the country (i.e. My family), look at weddings in completely different ways.  In the Midwest, weddings are everything.  You save your money and drop whatever plans you have to go.  You go to ever shower and bachelor/bachelorette party.  You spend $40,000-$50,000 to make it a really good party.

In Wyoming, I've been to a potluck-dinner weddings where they ran out of food.  I've been to backyard weddings.  My brother even eloped (gasp!)  I missed two cousin's weddings because I was working during one, and I couldn't afford to go to the other.  I never thought twice about it.

If I were a Midwesterner, I probably would be asked politely to leave the family because I wasn't holding up my end of the bargain.

And yes, I'm just as excited by the people saying yes (as long as they bring us a really cool/big/shiny gift.)

The single life is not what it's cracked up to be

To all my single friends: I feel your pain.  You told me the dating world sucked, and I saw first hand this weekend just how much.  I realized bars are full of 1) Creepy old dudes, 2) Creepy old dudes with tan lines on their ring fingers (hmm, do they think we don't know?), 3) Obnoxious drunk chicks, and 4) Douche Bags.

I'll start with you, douche bags.  When did your mother or father tell you it's okay to be douchy?  Two examples:  A 20's something man was sitting on one chair and propping his knee (not sprained) on another.  I asked if I could sit down on the knee-propping chair, and he said no.  No!  He continued to prop his knee for another 1/2 hour.  Seriously?  If your knee is sore because you're Brad Pitt's stunt double, it's forgiven, otherwise, give up the chair.

I then went into a corner of the bar where it was less busy to send Mike a text message.  A 20's something man came up and said, "You're going to have to move, this is my corner."  Seriously?  This is your corner?   Are you Baby from "Dirty Dancing?"  I'm thinking your social phobia may not land you a wife.  Just sayin'.

Finally, to any 20's something girl who thinks it's hot to get really drunk and then create your own mosh pit by falling on everyone nearby.....It's. So. Not. Hot.

Going to the DMV? Bring your patience and a snack.

I woke up in a bad mood knowing I had to go to the DMV to get my Illinois Driver's License.  I realized this weekend, after driving with expired license plates, I no longer could avoid this awful experience.

After being a licensed driver in Wyoming (twice), Colorado, Florida, Indiana and now Illinois, I can tell you first hand getting the official ID is a pain in the butt.  First you are forced to find your Social Security Card and Birth Certificate which are never where you'd think they are.  How can you lose things in a 660-square foot apartment?? (Drink!)
 
Then you have to deal with crowds of people who don't speak English, and you wonder how they will be able to drive when they can't even navigate the DMV line.  Then you usually have to work with government employees who make it pretty apparent they'd rather be constipated at Disney World than help you.

However, I have to say out of all the states I've lived in, Illinois is by far the best.  The line was the shortest, and Mary, the woman behind the counter, was helpful and told me I passed even though I missed 4 questions on the written exam.  Yeah!

I have to laugh at these tests, because when do you ever see a stop sign without the word "Stop" on it?  You have to identify the shape of it.  It takes me back to 12th grade Geography class.  Mrs. Edwards told us to learn all the provinces in Canada for a quiz.  I studied and studied and memorized each one.  But then on test day, Mrs. Edwards decide to punk us by moving all the provinces around, so you were screwed if you just learned where they are on a map, and not their shape.  I failed the test.

To Mrs. Edwards--barring any major natural disaster, I'm pretty sure the provinces will never be in another order.
To DMV test writers-I'm pretty sure a stop sign will always say "Stop."

Public rest stops= Disgusting

I'm in Indianapolis right now visiting some girlfriends, and tonight I'm going to my friend Tracy's 30th birthday bash.  Last night we had soooo much fun, but rumor has it there was a drunk girl who looks just like me staggering around Broad Ripple.  Strange.

As I was driving down here, I had too much coffee and unfortunately, had to stop at a rest stop.  Gross.  Here's my observation about rest stop bathrooms....they always smell disgusting!  Have you ever noticed that?  Either a lot of people are nervous travelers with upset stomachs, or they like to hold it and leave a little piece of themselves in places like Lebanon, Indiana. 

My other observation--why when you walk into a stall, 8 out of 10 times the person ahead of you didn't flush.  What's with that?  Taking the environmental stance of, "If it's yellow let it mellow, if it's brown, flush it down," only applies to your bathrooms at home, people!

Thinking about printing your own wedding invites? Run far, far away

I finally hit my bridezilla breaking point last night, and may or may not have told Mike I no longer cared if anyone showed up to the wedding.  Ouch!

As I mentioned before, I decided to buy the stationary and print out our wedding invitations to save money.  Other than choosing to wear hot pink rubber bands on my braces at 14, this may be the biggest mistake of my life.  It sounds so easy, but it took me about 10 hours to set up the right printer settings so everything was centered and not crooked.  I've been doing 6 invitations a day, which means I've been working on them for several weeks.

Then yesterday, my printer started breaking down and no longer printed the "M" in Michael or the "N" in Evanchan,  so I was marrying Ichael Evancha.  I tried to send those ghetto invitations to people I didn't know on our list (sorry 2nd cousins!), or to older people I thought might not be able to see the mistake. (I'm going to bridezilla hell.) 

Then it became pretty apparent this wasn't working.  Mike and I walked to Staples about 8:30 p.m. last night, and he graciously carried a new printer home about 1/2 mile.  This was the first time I've ever seen his upper lip sweat.  We plugged it in...and it wasn't working.

That's when I broke down and told him I was over the "invitation thing."  He told me as a bride, that really wasn't an option.

So to those of you who haven't received an invitation yet, a) You're not invited, or b) You are invited but won't receive your invitation until November.

Want Kids? Me, not so much

I always thought as soon as I got married, I would want to start a family.  When I walk down the aisle, I'll be 32 for goodness sakes, so shouldn't I be ready?  Well.... I'm not. 

Mike's brother, Jason, his sister-in-law Cara, and their son Carter are all visiting us right now.  Do you know what extreme togetherness is?  5 people and 2 dogs in a 660-square foot apartment.  (Take a drink! Confused?  See Sunday's blog entry).  As you can tell from the pic, the doggies love having a 21-month old around.  It means a continuous stream of dropped goodies on the floor.

Here is what I've learned about kiddos that makes me realize just how tough being a parent is.

*  Chicago is not kid-friendly.  Stairs?  A plenty.  Ramps?  Not so much.

*  Busy Chicagoans look at people with strollers like they have H1N1, and they hope their death glares will encourage parents to use birth control next time

*  Kids get up way too early.  Did you know the sun isn't up at 6 a.m.?  I had no idea!

*  In order to go on a trip with a child means planning and packing six months in advance.  They may be small in size, but they are large on stuff!

*  Carrying a 25-pound toddler will make your arms shake, go numb, and then feel like they'll completely fall off.

*  Kids are a lot of work.  Period.  It's hard to sit down and catch up on Dancing With the Stars when a toddler wants to play trucks.

To Mike--rest assured, I think our only children for quite awhile will have 4 legs and occasionally require a cone around their necks.

Our priorities stink

What's the deal with how the media covers certain stories and practically ignores others?  Case in point: Tiger Woods is still headline news while Ben Roethlisberger is barely mentioned.  Did you know he's accused of raping a woman for the 2nd time? 

Today is was announced there's not enough evidence to charge him, but NFL commissioner Roger Goodell will decide whether or not to take action against the 28-year old.  Here's what I'm guessing will happen: Goodell will suspend Roethlisberger for 8 games, but it will be reduced to just a couple.  Wow, what a punishment.

This makes me mad.  As a country, we need to take a serious look at our priorities, and not let someone get a slap on the wrist simply because they can throw or dunk a ball.

Maybe I need to punish Roethlisberger like I punish my son, Buckeye (see previous blog entries).  I'll put a cone on him the wrong way so he can't walk or move.  Yeah, I like that.

Gunshots are a ringin' in our hood

On Saturday, Mike and I heard the sounds of gunshots in our neighborhood, and then we saw tons of police cars.  Scary, right?  When we didn't hear anyone screaming immediately afterwards, we decided to check it out.  Behind our apartment complex on Lower Wacker, we found out they are shooting a television show pilot.  Very cool!  After waiting about 10 minutes, we saw a fake police chase involving television news live trucks.  The stunt drivers reminded me of some of the photographers I worked with have in the past.  (One photographer I worked with crashed 2 live trucks and rolled 1.  Scary!)

Turns out there are six television pilots filming in the Windy City right now, including one starring Chicago's very own Vince Vaughn.  Read more about it here.... TV Show Pilots

Maybe I'll become famous yet!

Congrats to those finding work

When you're unemployed or under-employed, (meaning you're only working part-time) you find happiness in other people's success.  Two of my Chicago friends who both have been out of work for nearly a year, just found jobs and start in the next two weeks.  When Mike told me, I squealed with excitement.  First of all, these are both great guys who deserve it.  Secondly, this is a good sign for all of us.  I truly feel like the economy is turning around and 2010 is, and will continue to be, a great year. 

I think all of us who have dealt with unemployment will be better employees for it.  Our egos disappeared long ago.  Recently when I went to Florida, I talked to a younger girlfriend who still works in TV.  She is frustrated with it, and has the exact same complaints I did when I was 25.  She said, "Some days I'll work 12 hours, and I don't even get a thank-you."  I thought a lot about this later, and I remember someone once telling me your bosses shouldn't have to thank you for doing your job.  Your paycheck is your thank you.  I realize now as a 30-something woman who's faced unemployment, I no longer have a sense of entitlement.

I recently took a part-time job because I was going nuts sitting around our 660-square foot apartment.  (BTW-I'm creating a drinking game with my blog.  Every time I say 660-square feet, you take a drink!)  As part of my job, I sometimes have to clean the bathrooms and mop the floor.  Pre-recession Jeannie would have said, "Oh no, I have a Bachelor's degree--I don't do floors."
Current recession Jeannie thinks, "I'll gladly do whatever they ask, because I'm happy to have a job."

So for all of you recently employed, congratulations.  You should be so proud. (Now take a shot!)  To all of you still looking, keep your head high and know what a better person you have become.

I a tweeterer!

I've finally given in and joined Twitter.  I'm now officially a "tweeter" or a "twitterer", or whatever it's called.  So many people are talking about this social media phenom, in fact, knowing how to use it is now a pre-req for a lot of PR & Marketing jobs, so I figured I'd better sign up.

For those of you somewhat unfamiliar with this, (i.e. my grandmother Mama Mays who reads my blog daily...Hi Mama Mays!) it's a place where you type out a short analysis what your doing.  For example, right now I could say, "Jeannie Crofts is blogging and drinking coffee with a ton of amaretto creamer."  Exciting, right?

You can also follow celebrities who tweet.  You know it's really them because it will say "verified" by their name.  This helps me follow my girl crush, Kim Kardashian.  I get to find out what she's doing, and what clothes and make-up she wears/uses.  Not a great use of my time, but I've never been more stylish!

Here are two problems I've found so far:  It shows how many followers you have, and somehow, this takes me back to painful middle school memories of never feeling popular enough.  For example, I had 3 followers at first (2 of whom I've never met), and one "Un-followed me", so now I only have 2.  Ouch.
I'm. So. Not. Cool.

A second problem...  Who cares?  Who cares that I ate Apple Jacks for breakfast?  If I were super famous, it might be interesting, but I'm not, so it's not.

I've decided I'm going to start making things up.  Instead of "Jeannie is feeling bloated," I'll change it to, "Jeannie is enjoying Lake Michigan on her new yacht," or "Jeannie didn't know how heavy $5,000 would feel in her Gucci wallet."

Much better.

Do you ever jump to conclusions?

Do you ever find yourself jumping to conclusions?  Tonight I was getting super mad that Mike hadn't called, and it was 7:45 p.m.  I left a message saying, "Hello?  Remember me?  What are you doing?"  In my mind, I was just sure he was getting wined and dined by a Playboy Playmate.  (You're laughing, but Playboy's headquarters are in Chicago, so it's not that far fetched.)

I was also thinking about the fact that I e-mailed one of my good girlfriends, (and bridesmaid), asking if I could stay with her next week in Indianapolis.  I hadn't heard back from her either.  I thought, how rude!  I started wondering how I could send her dress back and de-bridesmaid her.

Then I was wondering why another good friend, who I had just written a glowing letter of recommendation for, hadn't even taken the time to send me a quick thank you e-mail.

Then I realized my Blackberry wasn't on....

And I realized they had all called and/or e-mailed and/or texted me.

Oops!

Dear God,
Please forgive me for all the mean thoughts I had about Mike, Gene and Jeff.
Amen

Wednesday's P.S.

By the way....I just found out I put Buckeye's cone on wrong, so if you looked at today's post and laughed at me, you're not alone.
I'm a terrible mother....

The money keeps going out, but not coming in

The expenses keep coming.  Apparently Buckeye isn't supposed to lick his stitches, so today I had to go back to the vet to get him a cone to put around his neck. (By the way-did you know if you pay a cabbie a little extra he'll wait for you outside of the vet's office in the pouring rain?  Score!)

He is so cute! (Buckeye, not the cabbie.)  He hasn't left the couch since I put the cone on, because he seems frozen in fear.
Here is something I overheard at the vet's office that made me laugh.  A woman waiting for her dog asked the front desk worker about doggie insurance.  (Did you know they have such a thing?)  She wanted to know if her dog would be eligible because he has chronic diarrhea and that could be a pre-existing condition.  Here are my two thoughts:

* First, if your pet has chronic anything, take them back to the pound and get a new one.  Who wants to clean up diarrhea/vomit/other liquids for 15 years?

* Secondly, I think under Obama's new plan, the dog is covered because pre-existing conditions are out, and coverage for everyone, including Shitzus is in.  Score!

Have you ever spent $700 in one day but you didn't mean to?

What, you ask, is on Buckeye's leg?  It's a $459 dollar band-aid.  He developed a bump on his leg about a week ago, but after it didn't get better, we took him into the vet yesterday.  In order to have him put under, cut the bump off, give him stitches, and this cute little happy-face band-aid, we had to pay nearly $500.  Ouch!

Do you ever feel like you're just bleeding money?  I took Buckeye to the vet after going to my wedding dress fitting.  I was so excited that I only spent $500 on my dress, but come to find out that meant I needed to spend another $200 on alterations, and $80 for a special bra.  $80!  This bra better give me special super powers.  Like the power to have our guests RSVP in a timely manner (hint, hint.)

Awe, the holidays

Sorry I haven't posted for a few days.  Mike and I went to Canfield, Ohio this weekend for Easter and his nephew's 2nd birthday.  I thought I could sneak away for a few minutes to blog, but I was too busy getting fed ham and chocolate intravenously.

Coming home last night, this picture shows our view for an hour.  We hit construction and holiday traffic about 30 miles outside of the city.  If you've ever smelled Gary, Indiana for an hour straight, you'll feel our pain.

During our 7-hour drive, I had time to contemplate the holidays and holiday traffic, so I'm adding these thoughts to some I had back in November after Thanksgiving traveling.

*  Even though you're just eating and driving, somehow you're exhausted, and could use a nap anytime.
* Michigan drivers apparently make a vow to drive in the left lane and go 10 miles under the speed limit. Always.  (Although Wisconsin, you had a poor showing this trip too.)
* Hardee's is single-handedly contributing to this country's obesity problem, but their mushroom melt is oh-so-good.
* When you see a police officer with his lights on racing past everyone in traffic, he's not responding to a call, he's saying, "So long, suckers!"
* Older women fart when they go to the bathroom to pee. Always.
* You think you are a better driver than anyone else because you ARE.
* You feel like your family is crazy because they are. But don't worry, everyone's is.
* Your stomach will feel cramped the entire time, because you "don't do away games" (you know what I mean.)

Happy Belated Easter everyone!

Really?

Okay men, what's the deal?  You screw up and think going to rehab will make everything okay?  Tiger was the first to go; now Sandra Bullock's husband, Jesse James is apparently doing the same.  Sure, it's crazy  they would cheat on their super hot wives, but do they need counseling to tell them that's stupid?

What makes me sad about this whole situation is the fact that Sandra Bullock just had a huge highlight in her career by winning an Oscar, and she thanked her "incredible husband" every chance she got.  When the cameras panned to Jesse James during her acceptance speech, he had tears in his eyes.  At the time, we all thought, how sweet, he's so proud of his wife!  Now, it seems pretty apparent he was crying because he knew he might get caught after having a fling with a tattoo-wearing cocktail waitress.

Here's the deal Tiger and Jesse: Yes, you're famous, so women are naturally going to hit on you.  Yes, they'll want to have an affair with you.  You think it's love?  No, they want to sell you out, because telling their story to the Enquirer is much easier than working 40 hours a week.

In terms of having a sex addiction, c'mon.  You can avoid temptation...here's how.  I love to shop and I live less than a mile from some of the best shopping in the country.  I could go nuts and spend $10,000 (apparently that's the credit limit for unemployed peeps.  Think of the limits I'll have when I actually have a job!).  So what do I do?  I walk down State Street instead to avoid temptation.  So perhaps you need to stay out of Las Vegas casinos and strip joints.  Just sayin'. 

City life is hard on your tootsies!

What do you think when you see this picture?  Perhaps you're diggin' the purple toes, but thinking my Florida pedicure will need to be re-done soon.  Or maybe you're thinking the tattoo is cool, but you're wondering what does it mean?  The answer is nothing, in only proves that 18 year-olds shouldn't be able to make decisions that will stay with them the rest of their lives.

What you may also notice are my war wounds.  The city has been absolutely beautiful for the past two days, with temperatures in the 80's and every man, woman, child and dog playing outside.  It's also the time of year we all pull out our super cute flats and sandals that have been gathering dust all winter.  But look at what they do to your feet!  I only walked about a mile today, but here are the scars to prove that walking in a city is hard on your tootsies.  To be honest, I've never found a comfortable pair of flats...ever.  I think they're a terrible trend, and I'm kind of hoping slippers became the new "must-have" on Michigan Avenue.